Page 6 of Return to Rosewood Beach

“Sorry.” He grinned at her. “My work shirt is still drying. Better some paint than a face full of mud, though, right?”

She scowled down at her muddy shoes. A few moments passed, and he could feel water dripping down the back of his head. “Well, thank you,” she said stiffly.

She turned away from him, back to the taxi, where she started to get a suitcase out of the trunk.

Realizing the interaction was over, he stooped down and picked up his now-empty coffee cup and the soggy sandwich bag. At least the sandwich itself was inside a waterproof Styrofoam to-go box.

He shook his head as he went on his way. He was soaked to the bone, and he let out a sigh, glancing back at the woman for a moment. It seemed coffee and a favorable interaction with a beautiful woman weren’t in the cards for him today. At least he still had his corned beef sandwich.

CHAPTER FOUR

Julia stood on the sidewalk in the rain, holding the handle of her rolling suitcase tightly. She stared at the familiar restaurant in front of her, The Lighthouse Grill, Rosewood Beach’s most beloved local pub.

A wave of nostalgia swept over her, and also a sudden reluctance to go inside. It was her family’s restaurant, and she’d grown up surrounded by its friendly customers, cheerful noise, and mouthwatering smells. Now, however, things were different. Her father had passed away, and she was a whole new person. She didn’t know how it would feel to go back inside, and even though it was raining, a few seconds passed before she could bring herself to start walking toward the door.

She stopped under the striped awning, where raindrops were still dripping down occasionally but it was generally out of the downpour. She inspected her raincoat and her muddy heel, wanting to make herself look more presentable before going inside. She took a tissue out of her tissue pocket pack and wiped some of the mud off her shoe. Then she turned to her coat sleeve, frowning in frustration as she looked at the paint that was flaking across it.

She brushed her hand over it, and to her relief, most of the paint came off in flakes. Only a few small spots remained, and she knew she would be able to get those out with a little laundry magic.

She thought about the handsome stranger who had caught her so unexpectedly. He’d had very kind eyes, and she’d realized as he was leaving that he’d dropped his coffee to catch her.

I shouldn’t have been so rude to him,she thought regretfully, picking at one of the remaining pieces of dried paint on her coat sleeve.

She’d let the stress she was still feeling over losing her job and joining her family for her father’s funeral get the better of her. The mud all over her shoes had felt like the final straw, but then it had turned out that seeing white paint smeared across the sleeve of her favorite coat had been the final straw. She’d snapped a little with frustration because it had all felt like too much at once.

She glanced down the sidewalk in the direction he’d kept walking in. He was out of sight by that time, but she found herself wondering where he’d gone. She almost had an impulse to run after him and apologize for how rude she’d been. She was still frustrated that he’d gotten paint on her coat, but he’d meant to be kind.

And more than that, she felt drawn to him in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

He might have been dirty, rugged, and rough around the edges, but there was something oddly magnetic about him. She’d looked at him long enough to appreciate the slight wave in his almost-black hair and the brightness in his chestnut-colored eyes.

She found herself secretly hoping that she would get a chance to see him again. She looked down the sidewalk in the directionhe’d gone again, trying to speculate about where he might have been coming from.

Don’t be silly, Julia, she told herself.It’s been so long since you were in town, everything’s probably completely different from how it used to be.

Turning back to The Lighthouse Grill, she took a deep breath. There was no point in procrastinating the moment any longer. She needed to go in there and talk to her family members.

She reached out and touched the door handle. It seemed to mold to her touch, and with the familiar feeling of it came back a host of memories that had been half-buried in her mind. She took a deep breath, smelling the familiar savory aromas of the restaurant, and it was as if part of her was being transported into the past.

Her throat tightened a little as emotions swept through her. Her parents had run that place for as long as she had been alive, and she had just as many memories of The Lighthouse Grill as she did of her childhood home.

She took another deep breath, tugged on the door handle, and stepped inside.

It did feel a little bit as though she was going back in time. The room was filled with memories, darting through her mind like ghosts. She couldn’t help smiling, but at the same time, an achy feeling filled her chest.

Nostalgia washed over her as she rolled her suitcase through the dining room. Her eyes traced over the familiar booths and tables, and the sound of people laughing and clinking their silverware reminded her of all the times she’d heard those sounds there before. The scent of fried fish and tater tots permeated the air, and she took a deep breath, feeling her stomach grumble. She was unable to keep from smiling over how good it smelled. Her family’s restaurant was the most popular pub in Rosewood Beach for a reason.

She made her way to the swinging wooden doors that led into the kitchen. She pushed them open carefully, knowing how busy the kitchen always was, and as soon as she poked her head inside, she heard people call out her name in excitement.

The next thing she knew she was being crushed in a hug by Allison, who had been working at The Lighthouse Grill since it opened, and patted on the back by Tom, another one of the cooks who had known her since she was a little girl.

“Look at you.” Allison was grinning from ear to ear, and she adjusted the hair net that covered her silver hair. “So tall and elegant.”

“Well, the tall part is because of these.” Julia laughed and lifted her foot to point out how tall her heels were.

Tom whistled. “Don’t you trip in those things?”

“Uh, sometimes.” She grimaced. “But enough about me—how are you two doing? How’s this old place been holding up?”

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